


Rewriting History

by saint_troll



Series: Imperfect Armament Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Missing Scene: The End, Recreational Drug Use, Some D/s aspects, Supernatural: Season 5, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:25:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saint_troll/pseuds/saint_troll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2014 Castiel encounters 2009 Dean when he’s zapped to the future by Zachariah.  Castiel remembers this Dean from five years earlier and everything he’d been unable and unwilling to define about his feelings for the hunter back then.  Are either of them willing or brave enough to act on those feelings now faced with the very real End of Days?</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Dean pulls off of him with an abrupt snort of laughter. "You got a wicked sense of humor there, Cas."</p>
<p>"Wait til you see what I can do with my mouth."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rewriting History

It makes so much sense now. Castiel lets his gaze dance over the younger Dean; a slight smirk playing on his lips. It is with a fond sense of nostalgia that he’s replaying the earlier days of their friendship. He had been so awkward around the brothers at first. Truth be told, he’d been thoroughly smitten and wholly unwilling to admit it to anyone-let alone himself. The sheer brazenness of the 2009 version's posturing and word choice made Castiel long for a past he’d been attempting to forget existed. Aside from bringing a legitimate chuckle to his lips, it also brought a acute pang deep in his chest. 

The world was gasping its last breathe. The Croatoan virus had all but wiped out the whole of humanity save for small communes like their own. In under a decade there wouldn’t be a single man or woman walking the earth that wasn’t a meat sack. Castiel’s brothers and sister had long ago left. He took what paths of escape he could find that derailed his mind from the constant burden of mortal suffering. He’d given himself over to the extravagance of drugs, alcohol and sex. Love, beyond that for family, was a thing long forgotten. At least, that’s what he’d told himself time and time again over the last five years. And then the Dean Winchester he’d literally sacrificed everything for had walked through the door. 

***

He’d become complacent with the lengths that the current Dean went to avoid him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand. Apparently, his complacency had become too ingrained. Because the ‘09 model’s steady curious gaze from across the room was unnerving him. Castiel takes a long, slow drink off of the bootlegged beer that had been passed around earlier. Curling his tongue over his teeth, he savors the taste. To hell with it, quite literally, he decides.

While everyone else is discussing strategy, he meets the younger Dean’s gaze with a darker gaze of his own. Castiel nearly crows when his mouth drops open and his eyes widen. After what Dean had overheard earlier in regards to the orgy, it was adorable that a single flash of bedroom eyes could shock the hunter so much.

Castiel gave him a knowing smile before returning his attention back to tactical. He truly believed the only reason these sessions were even still helpful was to refresh the sense of community amongst the fighters and few civilians left. The modus operandi never really changed. Fight. Fight to the death if you had to and save as many as you could for as long as you could. His focus fading, Castiel returned his attention to Dean; who was interestingly enough staring him down with a rather intense expression of his own. Bowing his head ever so slightly, he raised his bottle in a silent toast. The smug smile he was sure adorned his face didn’t falter.

***

The night before battle. Castiel usually spent times like these in an narcotically induced haze. A splash of rot gut here, a handful of stolen pharmaceuticals there. Tonight, however, was different. He is sober save for the stick of xanax swimming in his bloodstream. Dean, the one from the past, had shown up at his cabin around a half hour ago. Even in the awkward silence shared between them, it’s nice to have the hunter back in his life. But if he doesn’t distract himself soon, it’s only a matter of time before he does something stupid. Really stupid. Stupid like crowding into Dean’s personal space and showing him exactly how much he’d learnt about human affection and pleasure in the last five years.

“Join me for a perimeter sweep?” Castiel offers grabbing his gun and crossbow from near the door. 

“S-sure.” Dean responds hesitantly.

Smirking, Castiel grip the rifle by the barrel and hands it to Dean grip first. “Something a little more familiar. There’s ammo in the drawer.”

The hunter shuffles over the cupboard and roots around the drawer for a moment. “These homemade?”

“Not exactly any plants to make the real deal anymore.” He explains quietly. “At least with your background, it wasn’t that much of a leap from filling hollow points with salt or casting them in silver to forging the whole package.”

Dean’s grunt in response is unhappy. Castiel isn’t deaf. He wishes things were different. He had prayed until that practice too had left the world. Pulling a set of night vision goggles from the hook on the wall, he offers the better pair to Dean before snagging his backup set. “Nice…”

“Nothing but the best for 5 star guests like yourself.” Castiel winks blatantly at him and chuckles when he’s met with the same slack-jawed, wide-eyed look from earlier. He’s got half a mind to throw in all his chips and blow the addled guy a kiss just to see where it gets him. He opts for more pleasant behavior instead. Holding the door open, Castiel watches the hunter exit. With a self depreciating shake of his head as he drags his eyes over Dean’s back, ass and thighs, he considers the fact that the man hasn’t been back in his life a single day and already he’s got him wrapped back around his little finger.

The autumn air is brisk against their cheeks as they trudge through the forest. It’s unlikely that any of the infected would wander so far from the more populated areas, but it’s not unheard of. The crunch of dead leaves and twigs plays out as a soundtrack to the silence that has re-bloomed between them. 

He wants to ask just how far he’s fallen in Dean’s time. A lot had happened to him that year and it's unclear exactly where the two of them stood the last time they saw one another. But really, does it matter? He’s not that… being any longer. He’s found his own sense of enlightenment even in such somber times. Castiel is so engrossed in thought after a few steps he stumbles and falls hard against the hunter’s shoulder.

“You do this often?” Dean chuckles at him. His features are awash with what can only be described as bemusement. 

It’s a look that Castiel hasn’t seen in a very long time. As it turns out, it’s his turn to play the slack-jawed naivete. He knows exactly what compels him when he finally makes a move. He’s just not entirely sure when his own mind stopped having a say in the matter. Castiel moves in on Dean with intent and doesn’t stop until the hunter is pressed snugly between himself and a huge oak tree.

“Cas?” 

“Yeah?” He responds with an amused smile as he takes the gun from Dean’s hand and lets let slide gently to the ground. His bow soon joins it.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Something I’ve always wished I’d done before Detroit.” Drawing his fingertips over the line Dean’s jaw, Castiel watches the play of emotions as they flow over the hunter’s face. He caresses his thumb over Dean’s bottom lip just to feel the slick, soft texture pull at the callouses he’d developed years ago. “Fuck.” He whispers. His tone is reverent now; flirtatiousness cast aside. 

Dean’s lips move beneath Castiel’s feather light touch when he speaks. “What?” He asks in a low murmur. To say that he’s shocked is an understatement. “Cas, since when?”

Swallowing in an attempt to fortify his resolve, Castiel juts out his chin. “Since I first laid my hand on you in Hell.” It’s a revealing and probably a damning confession for his counterpart back in 2009, but now that it’s out in the open he won’t deny it. He watches as Dean’s eyes slide shut and he presses into the hand caressing his face.

“And you didn’t say anything?” The hunter’s voice has gone thick with emotion. Castiel wants nothing more than to whisk away all the confusion and doubt clouding Dean’s thoughts.

“I’m saying something now.”

“Cas. I’m gone in less than five days.” Dean lays a hand over the one Castiel has cupping his face. “Why even bother?”

“Because.” He presses his forehead to Dean’s. “Say you go back and you change -everything- or say you go back and destiny runs its course. It’s a choice between this never happening because the angels never leave… or the world ending. Why not?” Castiel is all too aware of the fact that there are a million choices between then and now and, well, things just aren’t that simple. But that’s not a topic he’s going to bring to task at the moment.

The hunter’s eyes are angry and wet when they meet Castiel’s gaze. “I did this to you.” He admonishes. 

“I made my own choices, Dean.”

“But,” He struggles to find the words. “Because of me… you fall.”

“I didn’t fall. I just didn’t leave.” Castiel runs the tip of his nose along the slope of Dean’s face. “I couldn’t abandon my friends. I couldn’t abandon you like that.”

“And you and him?” Dean responds angrily.

“He’s never been the same since Detroit. There was and never has been a… me and him.” The set of Dean’s jaw beneath his hand almost makes Castiel pull away. When the hunter finally speaks again, he’s glad he didn’t.

“I don’t know what to do, Cas.” 

“With me? Or the apocalypse?”

“Apocalypse ain’t gonna happen.” Dean states with determination. He reaches up and buries his free hand in Castiel’s hair. “This… this doesn’t seem very fair to you.”

“Don’t care. It’s you.”

“Christ, Cas.”

“Distant cousin actually.” He deadpans; hoping the levity behind the seriousness lightens the mood. It does. Dean is snorting out a loud laugh against Castiel’s cheek and in that moment he can almost remember what Heaven had felt like. It’s in this moment of mirth that he finally makes his next move. Tilting his head, he leans in and captures the hunter’s mouth with his own. 

Dean’s tightens his grip in Castiel’s hair; holding him close and tight. He’d never kissed another man until tonight. Hell, the idea had never even crossed his mind. Somehow Cas always blew past every border or wall he’d ever set up; this one included. When it came to the angel, Dean suddenly understood how something like gender could be so inconsequential. He jerks back with a shocked gasp. 

Worry creases Castiel’s features as he tries to seek out the cause of rejection on Dean’s face. Only. Only, he doesn’t find it. Instead, he finds a smug grin and arched eyebrow. “I don’t follow.” He offers in uncharacteristic shyness.

Laughter bubbles out of the hunter’s mouth. “That night after the brothel. When you…” Dean lets his voice trail off. He breathes in as Castiel exhales. “That was about this?” 

An echo of his past self, Castiel nods meekly. His emotions laid bare between them, he does the only thing he knows will chase the unease building in his soul away. He kisses him and repeats the process again and again. Dean responds like it in itself is a revelation and Castiel is finally able to place him on a timeline. It explains so much that had come to pass in the weeks since their encounter with Raphael the following morning. The night they'd encountered famine and more. He’d always questioned the hunter’s easy acceptance of affection. Now, he knew where it came from.

When Dean spreads his legs to allow Castiel’s body to slot even tighter against his, he can’t help but release a possessive growl. Five years ago, he wouldn’t have dared to presume to be the one seemingly controlling a situation like this. Yet, here they are. Nipping along Dean’s throat, Castiel shudders as Dean moans softly. He wants to hear that sound over and over until there is no inhibition behind it. Digging his fingers into the front pockets of the hunter’s jeans, he pulls their bodies closer. He’s grinding steadily, revelling in the friction when Dean mans up, as it were, and makes a move that not only startles but shocks him in the best way possible. 

Castiel hears the scrape of rough bark dragging over Dean’s jacket before he notices him sliding ever so slowly down the trunk of the tree and onto his knees. He’s still got his hands on the hunter’s face. Caressing his cheek, he tilts Dean’s face up by his chin. Their eyes meet. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Look. I’m not good with all this touchy, feely crap.” Dean breaks eye contact and reaches for Castiel’s jeans. He begins unfastening them, “This part…” He clears his throat. “This part comes pretty natural.”

Breathless at the confession, Castiel nods mutely because he knows exactly what Dean means. He understands. Even during his first fumbled attempts at fornication, it had felt akin to breathing. Natural. It was so much easier to please and seek out gratification than it was to cope with the daily turmoil of living. 

Faltering when his attempts reveal the swell of Castiel’s cock beneath the worn fabric of his boxers, Dean’s eyes drift back up. “Only, I, uh, haven’t done this part before. I mean, I probably got nothing on all those women from...before.”

“It’s okay.” Castiel reassures him gently. And, if he could find the words he’d tell Dean how if it meant having the hunter so completely, he’d give up the women. He’d give up the booze and the pills. He’d give it all up to have Dean in his life as more than the angry husk of a man he’d become. “It’s you.”

The seriousness between them bares itself as the gravity of Castiel’s words sink in. Leaning forward, Dean places a kiss on the exposed sliver of skin above the waistband of his boxers. He nuzzles against the cotton; eyes downcast. Above him, Castiel’s breathing has become heavy. When he thumbs down the material to reveal his cock, Castiel whimpers. And suddenly, Dean’s eyes are back on his; bright and aware. It’s like he knows exactly what he’s doing to him, but can’t quite believe it himself. Reaching out blindly, he grips the base as Castiel weaves his finger into his hair and guides him slowly forward. The slide of Dean’s lips send shockwaves through his body. “What do you like, Cas?” He asks in a hoarse whisper; mouth dragging over the length before leaving a sloppy, wet kiss at the tip. 

"Sloppy and sweet. Generous. Selfish. Anything you'll give me."

"You gotta be more specific than that." Dean suggests as he swirls his tongue slowly along the slit.

"You seem to have a pretty good idea." Castiel moans low in his throat at the sight of the hunter's lips wet with his pre-come. Dean kisses the tip again. He relaxes his jaw but doesn't move to further his exploration. After another pause, he repeats the action and stares up at Castiel in the shadows. He looks like a twisted visage of a student ready for his lessons or an altar boy waiting to receive communion. It strikes Castiel that these comparisons might not be far off if a little bit on the side of dark imagery. "Open up, baby." He offers as instruction. Dean complies immediately with nothing more than a blush shading his cheeks.

Castiel pushes his cock slowly past the O of Dean's mouth. He pets his hair as if to offer encouragement. "You're doing so well. Now try a little suction." His eyes nearly roll back in his skull at the sudden hot, wet heat pulling at his cock. Combined with the knowledge of who exactly is gifting him this exquisite pleasure, it's a heady experience. He groans a little louder. Dean's ministrations are slow, exact and thoughtful; everything Castiel thought they would be. "Is this how you like it, Dean. Divine torture?"

Dean pulls off of him with an abrupt snort of laughter. "You got a wicked sense of humor there, Cas."

"Wait til you see what I can do with my mouth."

"Is it wicked?" Dean shoots back before leaning in and licking a broad stripe up the underside of Castiel's cock. 

Whining at the sensation, he responds. "Pure evil."

Rather than awaiting further direction, Dean finally sucks him in without preamble. His technique betrays his inexperience but the want and need, the very core of his desire, are more than apparent. The hunter clutches Castiel's hips as he dips down his length again and again. Dean is moaning around him as his cock twitches and swells in his mouth. He doesn't stop until Castiel is pulling him away by the hair along the base of his neck.

"Not yet." He drags Dean up by his collar and kisses him long and deep. 

***

Sliding his hands around Castiel’s waist, Dean spreads his palm flat over the small of the other man’s back. It’s a tactic probably used more on the women he’s been with, Castiel muses. It doesn’t stop him from pressing into the touch. When they separate to breathe, the hunter is the first to speak. “You really mean… all this?” 

Castiel can sympathise with his doubt. The circumstances of their reunion weren’t exactly chaste. He almost regrets every one of his past relationships. Almost. Without them, he would never of become the man he is today. If only it were possible to explain that with a kiss or a touch. Truth be told, he’s strung out with need and Dean feels like he’s practically vibrating in a million different directions. Looming over the hunter, Castiel gives him a curious inspection before answering. "More than anything."

Dean presses his lips into a thin line as he nods. Pushing his shoulders up and off of the tree, he slides out of his jacket. He moves to slide his hands back around Castiel’s waist only to latch onto his jacket instead. Dean drags the coat off in silence. The nervous energy surrounding him has Castiel on edge. He doesn’t want to push the hunter to do something he doesn’t want to do. Yet, it’s quite possible he’d sell his soul to have this one night with him. 

Allowing Dean some modicum of control, he waits to act on his urges until the hunter’s hand is on his neck and drawing him. When they are less than a breathe apart, Dean whispers. "Kiss me again, Cas?"

There is nothing on the earth that could stop him from obliging such a request. Castiel begins chastely then licks his way in. The coarse texture of Dean’s jeans rubbing against his still exposed cock is revving him up fast. He’s always been rather rash in the heat of the moment. And tonight is no different. 

Shoving his hands up and under Dean’s shirt, he drags it up to armpits in one slick movement. he swallows the startled moan this incites. Wishing he had more mouths, more hands, more everything, Castiel draws back from their kissing with a smirk already spreading over his features. He doesn’t wait to ask permission or even give the hunter warning. Hunching forward, he draws his mouth over the contours of Dean’s chest before nipping and sucking at one of his nipples. 

“D-don’t stop.” Dean gasps out above him and holds him in place with the hand still on Castiel’s neck. He bucks against him at one particularly hard nip and Castiel realizes that Dean seems to have a thing for pain. It’s a little startling considering the time he’d spent in hell. But nothing he can’t appreciate from his own set of life experiences. Pressing a sloppy kiss of apology, Castiel shift to the other side of his chest and repeats the process.

Splaying his hands over Dean’s side, Castiel slides back up and kisses him hungrily. He digs his fingers into the hunter’s ribs just to feel him shudder and hear him gasp sharply into his mouth. His cock is still hard and heavy between them, but Castiel’s thought are focused on Dean. He nuzzles and sucks along his jawline until he lands at the curve of the hunter’s ear. Groaning, he sucks the lobe between his lips for a moment before curling his tongue along the shell. If the tightened grip on his neck is anything to go by, Dean really seems to like that. 

Castiel presses a kiss to the patch of skin just behind the ear. The hunter stiffens against him. He sucks on the expanse of nerve ending hard enough that it’s entirely likely that a bruise will form. And Dean is, well, Dean is quite literally writhing against him; eyes pinched shut baring the grimace along his eyebrows. His mouth is open but sound no longer comes out. Breathe after stuttered breathe passes over his lips. Castiel bites a little harder. 

“That all you got?” Dean challenges in a playful tone when Castiel finally backs off.

Chuckling darkly, he takes a single step back leaving just enough room to find the front of Dean’s pants with ease. “We’re just getting started, boy.” The hunter’s facial features tense at the pet name so Castiel says it again. “My beautiful, baby,” he steals a quick kiss from angry seeming lips as he pushes the button free of its hole. “Boy.” He finishes as he slides the zipper down. 

“Cas.” The hunter interjects before he can say it again. “Please don’t say that.”

“Why not? It suits the situation. It suits you.”

Dean shoots him a doubtful look. “It’s weird.” He counters as his gaze suddenly drop to where Castiel’s fingers are worming their way inside the waistband of his boxers. 

“You never minded when I called you boy before.” Castiel states in a low, even tone. The sound that barely escapes the back of the hunter’s throat all but takes Castiel out at the knees. Oh, there is something to the protests then; a secret perhaps, a desire, a longing, a memory? Thumbing over the sharp angle of Dean’s hips, he adds. “In fact, it usually put you in your place.” And the look that passes over his face, that confirms it; not the specifics but it substantiates Castiel’s theory well enough.

“I’m so not calling you daddy.” Dean shoots back after he’s regained his composure somewhat.

“Not asking you to.” Castiel wraps his hand around the hunter’s cock and drags his grip from the base to the head. He’s watching Dean with intent. He doesn’t want to miss a single second of surrender as it colors his face. 

Slumping against the tree, Dean turns his face away as he thrusts wantonly into Castiel’s grasp; unintentionally baring his throat. And Castiel is torn between watching him lose control and tasting the sweat beading along his skin as he does. There is indeed a bruise forming behind his ear, he notices. He gives in and buries his face in Dean’s neck. He kisses and sucks on his skin with fervor. All the while, working the other man’s cock faster and faster. “You are so god-damn beautiful like this.” Castiel growls into his ear. Dean’s whimpers and shoves up hard into his hand. 

He’s gripping the back of his neck so hard that Castiel is certain that they both walk away from this with passion mottled skin. “Let it go, baby.” He relinquishes Dean’s neck to watch his handiwork. They’re cheek to cheek as he continues. “Just, let go.”

Dean moans loudly and slides his hand from the other man’s neck and up into his hair. Holding their faces tight to one another, he’s watching the slide of Castiel’s hand. “Cas.” His voice is hoarse and nearing it’s breaking point. “Oh, fuck. Cas, please.”

“Please what, boy?”

“Just, fuck…” He gasps. “Please!”

Licking his lips, Castiel shifts his focus to the darkened head of Dean’s cock. His grip tightening, he twists his wrist on the upstroke. It only takes a few minutes of this before the hunter is groaning out his release. Castiel tugs out every last tendril of pleasure; stopping only when Dean’s grips his wrist tightly begging him to stop. 

A smile on his lips, he turns to face him; their faces still press tightly together. Nose pressed into the slope of Dean’s cheek, Castiel lets out an appreciative sigh. “Do you have any idea how amazing you looked? How fucking good you smell right now?” Dean shakes his head causing Castiel’s to shake in tandem. “Well, you did and you do.” He continues by pressing a hungry open mouthed kiss to his jaw. “I want to fuck you so badly, Dean.” The use of the hunter’s name is a sudden change-up but he feels boy doesn’t translate the reality of his feelings all that well. 

As to be expected, Dean stiffens beside him. Castiel can understand why. His first time in that position with a man had frightened the hell out of him. He’d assumed it to be painful and humiliating; dirty in ways that didn’t make him happy at all. It had ended entirely different, however. When all was said and done, Castiel hand found himself more relaxed and content than any poison or pill had ever been able to render him. It was a pivotal revelation that such pleasures were as equally enjoyable with men; sometimes more. And that was an experience he wanted Dean to have. “But not tonight.” Castiel concedes and drags his tongue up his cheek to the corner of his eye with a bright chuckle. He inhales sharply as he reaches down to tug at his own aching cock; the movement causing his body to tremble and shake where he’s pressed up against Dean. Each sound of pleasure that leaves his lips leaves with the intent of conveying how much the hunter turns him on, how out of his mind he can render him. 

“Shit, Cas.” Dean gasps and Castiel shift to follow his line of vision only to land on his own hand quickly working himself over. Biting his lip, he tries to hold back. He really does. But in a matter of minutes, he’s arching hard against Dean. His body is still twitching from the aftermath of his climax with the hunter speaks. “Oh, sonofabitch.” 

Castiel yelps as he’s grabbed and slammed hard against the tree. Dean’s mouth is on his before me can voice object such treatment. They kiss until the night air has them shivering and pressing into each other for warmth rather than in need. “Let’s head back to the cabin.” Castiel offers with a smile. “I have a bottle of moonshine that will blow your mind.”

***

Word is on the wind that the Devil’s headed their way. And fuck it all if Dean, the latter, doesn’t want to bring the fight to him. Castiel knows better than to voice his objection. Apparently, so does the other Dean. He’s been glaring a hole into the back of the guy’s head the entire meeting. He’d heard the two of them got in a bit of an argument earlier that day. It was nice to see the indignation on the younger Dean’s face. It was not a commonplace sight these day on his counterpart. He offered Dean a sad smile from across the room. This was it. Tonight, they were going to face Lucifer and they were all going to die.

***

“Are you sure?”

“Cas, this mission is suicide!”

“I know, but are you sure?”

“Fuck!” “Yeah. Yes, I’m sure. You’re gonna die tonight and those fucking dicks are going to drag me back to 2009 and for what…” Tempering his anger, he reaches out and gently takes Castiel’s face into his hand. “God help me. I trust you. And, if this is what you want from me, Cas. All you have to do is ask.”

“If you’re sure then I’m asking.” He runs his finger in a frame around Dean’s face before kissing him quickly. “Can I have you? Can I touch you? Can I fuck you?” His voice falters as he continues. “Can I… make love to you?” Castiel’s senses are all on edge from the lack of drugs in his system but he feels like he’s on fire until Dean pulls him into a desperate kiss. 

Nodding as their lips separate, Dean looks around the cabin until his eyes fall on the bed. He tilts his head towards it with a serious expression on his face. Castiel reaches up and takes both of the hunter’s hands from his face and leads him across the room. 

He undresses Dean with ardent focus. Each layer of clothing is peeled off with a kiss. And then he tends to his own garments; letting his eyes take in the expanse of the hunter’s skin until they fall on his shoulder. As he stands, Castiel cannot drag his attention away from it. Lifting his arm, he reaches out and places his hand over the bright red scar. Dean huffs out a shocked whimper at the contact. “Does it hurt?’ Castiel asks softly.

“No.” Dean respond breathlessly. “Normally, I don’t even feel it; like scar tissue. It’s just there.” His gaze is half lidded when he meets Castiel’s eyes. “Right now?” He swallows. “... it.” Dean has to struggle to take in a breathe. “It, uh.” His bottom lip quivers. 

When it looks like the hunter’s eyes are about to roll back in his head, Castiel removes his hand. Dean is still a mess but he’s much calmer. He doesn’t hesitate. He presses his hand back down and Dean keens at the touch. He removes his hand again. “Whoa.”

“Tell me about it.” Dean gasps before laughing softly. He’s seems embarrassed but fighting his body’s urges to reveal this fact. 

Castiel hums as he bites at his lip and stares at the mark. It’s interesting that it should cause such a reaction at all let alone after all this time. Really. He’s no longer an angel. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. Perhaps in another life, the answer will come. It certainly won’t tonight.

After a few moments, he drags his attention back up to Dean’s face. “Lay down?” He asks in gentle tone. As the hunter moves quickly to follow direction, Castiel reaches out and draws his hand down his chest and onto his stomach. “On your back.”

Nodding, Dean crab crawls up the bed until his head is settled on the pillows. Castiel moves over him like a storm. Their lips crash like wave and their bodies move in slow motion. Pulling Dean’s legs up and around his hips, Castiel slots their semi-hard cocks against each other and grinds down on him in slow circles. There are a million kinkier ways they could be doing this. But seeing as how this is their last night together, their only night together, he really does prefer the option of making love to a mind numbingly good fuck. 

“Cas.” Dean whispers his name between kisses. 

His pupils are dilated and his pulse is racing. Castiel wonders how much of that is arousal and how much is fear. He hopes by the end of the night that latter is completely erased from Dean’s mind. Short fingernails dig into his biceps as he presses his weight solidly on top of the hunter. “Shh. I won’t do anything you don’t give me permission to do.” When there is not a responses, he presses for one. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay. You feel amazing like this, you know. Warm, solid… present.” Castiel nibbles at his ear lobe. “I could do this all night.” And he meant it. Dean’s hands are on his face, around his neck and in his hair in varying degrees. Lifting his hips to meet Castiel’s, it feels quite suddenly like a switch has been flipped. The hunter’s movements have become more languid; his touches hinting at sensuality. It’s driving Castiel mad.

Rearing back to kneel between Dean’s leg, Castiel looks down at him with a sly smile. The man draped across the bed beneath him is so much more than the shadow of himself that he presents the world. His cheeks flushed pink, Dean’s eyes take in the sight of his own legs spread wide and hooked over the Castiel’s thighs. Licking his lips, the hunter glances back up at his face. 

Castiel runs his fingertips from Dean’s knees down to his hips and back up again. “The other night in the forest.” He repeats the trail of his fingertips with flattened palms. “I’d like to return the favor.” When his hands reach Dean’s hips, he stops. “May I?”

Nodding mutely, Dean swallows twice. His voice is gruff when he finally speaks. “Y-yeah. Yes, please.”

Humming, Castiel crawls backward on his knees until he has enough room to press down his torso between Dean’s thighs. The hunter spreads his legs wider the closer he gets. “Good boy.” He offers in a low tone. The pet name startles a gasp out of Dean, but he doesn’t protest its use as he had before. Castiel hisses at the thrill that it sparks and he begins.

He grips the base of Dean’s cock and allows his eyes to roam over it. He hadn’t paused to take in the details the other night. But now that he had the time, he was not going to pass it up. Meeting Dean’s eyes briefly, Castiel curled his tongue around the tip a few times before sucking him down in one fell swoop. Above him, the hunter shouted out a surprised moan. Castiel swallowed; allowing the press of Dean’s cock against the back of his throat to fill his sense. The various flavors and scents the human body produced; they were the silver lining to losing his wings. 

Castiel held Dean down by his hips as he began bobbing his head; the length of his cock disappearing into his mouth only to be revealed once more. The low, appreciative moans falling from the hunter’s mouth urge him on even as his jaw tires. It has been far too long since he’s partaken of pleasure with a man, so he’s a little out of practice. Dean, for what it is worth, doesn’t seem to notice. 

Dragging his mouth off of Dean’s cock, Castiel presses chaste kisses along the inside of one of his thighs. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, Cas.”

“You sure?”

“With my life.”

“And your body?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Castiel responds with a chuckle. “That, or I have another doppelganger in my bed. What year did you say you were from?”

“Ass.” Dean smiles down at him. The levity leaves his face almost as quickly as it appeared. “Seriously, you want to…” He closes his eyes for a few moments before continuing. “You said you wanted to.” He cleared his throat. “Fuck me?”

Nodding, Castiel draws a line from Dean’s hip and down to where the curve of his ass meets his thigh. “I do. Very, very much.”

“Then.” Dean lets out a nervous huff. “Then do whatever you need to do… for that.”

“Under the pillow.”

“What?”

“There’s lubricant under the pillow.”

“Oh.”

Castiel can’t help himself, he smirks. “Will you pass it to me, Dean?” 

Blushing, Dean pinches his eyes shut and chuckles. “Sorry, nervous.”

“I know. It’s okay.” He rubs soothing circles with his thumbs on Dean’s thighs. After the lube is retrieved, Castiel shifts back up onto his knees and hooks one of Dean’s ankles over his shoulder to give him better access for the preparation he’s about to begin. “This will feel cold at first, okay?”

Realizing that Castiel isn’t going to continue unless he replies, Dean whispers out quickly. “Okay.” 

The first press of his fingers to the hunter’s entrance earns him a startled buck and the sight of his hole clenching tightly. “Again.” He warns. This time, Dean forces himself not to move. Castiel cooes above him as he runs his fingers in damp circles. The tension in Dean’s thigh and calf is lessening, Castiel assumes that this is as good of time as any to press things further along; quite literally. Ensuring his fingertip is thoroughly lubricated, he presses his pointer finger slowly past the ring of muscle. 

Gasping loudly, Dean strains his neck as he presses it into the pillow. He doesn’t, however, push against the intrusion. And ever so slowly, Castiel pushes deeper into him. One by one, he adds more fingers until he has the hunter writhing around the curl of three fingers knuckle deep inside of him. “Beautiful.” Castiel kisses Dean’s ankle where it is still hooked over his shoulder. “You always have been.” 

Castiel withdraws his fingers gradually, cherishing the chorus of whimpers it pulls from Dean’s lips. Lips that it feels like he cannot go another minute longer without kissing. Falling forward, he braces himself with his hands framing Dean’s face on the pillow. The hunter is half folded beneath him and gasping against his mouth for mere seconds before Castiel claims it hungrily. 

Dean shifts beneath him until his free leg is coiled around the back of the knee of Castiel’s leg. His hands are skimming over every accessible plateau of skin. It’s base and wanton and Castiel wants more; so much more. “Can I?” He gasps into Dean’s mouth. “May I?” When Dean finally nods, Castiel wastes little time on preparing himself. As he pumps his own cock, spreading the lube over it, he murmurs against the hunter’s chin. “I’m going to make you feel so good, boy.” As he shivers beneath him, Castiel angles the tip of his cock against Dean’s entrance and begins the slow press of breaching him. “So good.” 

He has enough experience under his belt these days that the sudden tightness clenching around him only fans the flames of his desire instead of causing it to flare and burn out in a rush of heated lust. Mindful of Dean’s body language, Castiel presses in; each inch deliberate and calculated.

Grunting, Dean tries to relax. “Son of a bitch.” He gasps out when he feels Castiel bottom out inside of him. 

The slanderous term is a familiar one and it draws a laugh out of Castiel. “Just breathe. I’m not going to move until you tell me to do so.” Their faces are still inches apart and it is glorious being able to witness the reactions playing out across the hunter’s face. Kissing the corner of Dean’s mouth, Castiel forces his own body to relax as he takes stock of everything he’s feeling. The physical is tantamount to the emotional aspect and that in itself places their coupling on a pedestal so far above everyone else he’s ever been with. It actually makes him feel a little disoriented. He’ll take this over group mind any day. 

It’s nearly five minutes before Dean’s breathing calms and he shifts experimentally under Castiel’s weight. “Yeah, okay.” He says his voice thick with a perplexing mix of trepidation and lust. 

Castiel begins cautiously; pulling out and pressing back in without letting his own urge to thrust hard and deep take over. Dean’s shocked cries are a melodious soundtrack. He responds in kind with moans of his own; sounding with each press back into the slick, tight, wet heat of the hunter’s body. 

Shrugging Dean’s leg off of his shoulder, Castiel rears back up into his former kneeling position. The sheen of sweat in the dim lighting of the cabin highlights the contours of the hunter’s body perfectly. He is an impossible dream come true. Rubbing Dean’s hip, Castiel chases away the telltale ache he knows very personally can come with such gymnastic positions. And then, he begins thrusting in earnest. Beneath him, Dean’s expression has taken on a shocked and needy quality. His words, no doubt a slew of cussing and begging, are lost to the whimpers and moans that Castiel literally fucks out of him. 

Thankful for the ability to multitask even at the edge of climax, Castiel slides a hand from Dean’s hip to his cock and grips it tightly. It takes all of maybe ten strokes and the hunter’s body is arching up off the bed. Shoulders pressed hard against the mattress as his orgasm tears through him, Dean finds his gaze held captive by Castiel’s. 

He prays, yes prays, the adoration he feels for the hunter shines through because right now Castiel feels like he’s finally found salvation once more. He’s barely aware of his own body finding it’s completion as he stares intently down at Dean. Everything was worth it. All. Of. It.

***

It shouldn’t come as a surprise; everyone knew what they were walking into. But it still feels like someone has sliced him open and left him to bleed out. Seeing Castiel’s dead body in the dirt next to his future self surrounded by so many other lifeless faces; it’s worse than feeling a hellhound tear through you. And Lucifer, he just stands there all decked out in Sammie’s skin, smiling at him. The Angels clearly have no idea whose life they’ve just fucked with. 

He’s got half a mind to gank Zachariah’s ass the minute he blinks in to magic him back to his own time If the events of the last five days have done anything, they’ve proven to him that he needs to work things out with his brother even if the thought of what he’s done unsettles him to his very core. So, he’ll let the Angels think they’ve actually gotten through to him right up until he can tell them to fuck off to their smug, dick faces. Once he’s topside in 2009, changes are coming.


End file.
